To Steal a Second Chance
by etienneofthewestwind
Summary: He still did not know how things went wrong, but a twist of fate threw him to a place he never expected to return. What will he make of this opportunity? What are the consequences of even trying? Chapter 3: The answers Percy seeks are not in the library.
1. Prologue

To Steal a Second Chance  
by étienneofthewestwind

**Disclaimer:** I placed a bid on Percy once, but my cat head-butted me awake before I learned the outcome. Sadly, I must conclude that I don't even own the characters in my dreams.

**Summary: **He still did not know how things went wrong, but a twist of fate threw him to a place he never expected to return. What will he make of this opportunity? What are the consequences of even trying?

* * *

_The Ministry lay in shambles. All floors had areas of collapse. Blood painted the walls. Down in Department of Mysteries, a slender redhead made his way toward the sounds of the final battle. He held his wand in his left hand, and braced his limping against the wall with the side of that hand. His right arm he held curled against his chest, with only a bundle of cloth at the end of the wrist. As he turned left into the last corridor, he stumbled over a body. Wincing as his right arm hit the wall, he spared the skinned face a brief glance before trudging on. _

_At the end of the corridor, a door stood open. Inside the room, a red-eyed man with a reptilian face traded curses with a young man. The youth's short, black hair stuck out wildly. Cracks filled the left lens of his spectacles. The room held one other person: a scrawny, middle-aged woman decked out in too many 'mystical' baubles. Heedless of the two fighting, she stood calmly breaking through the enchantments around a blue ball secured to a pedestal. The redhead's eyes widened as he realized what the Unspeakables kept in that room. He scrambled inside, keeping to the walls._

_Halfway to his goal, he ducked a blasting hex that was anything but a stray shot. _

_Large chunks of plaster rained down on him, throwing him off balance. He had to cast his shield spell wordlessly as fine particulate entered his airways and made him cough. The jerking further weakened the resulting spell. Through the haze, he could see the snake man aiming another curse at him as his own shields absorbed his opponent's hex. Realizing even a decent shield would fail against _that _curse, the redhead started running. He tripped almost immediately. As a result, the green light of the deadliest curse known to wizards to hit the wall directly above his bum. A split second later he screamed as he landed on his nonexistent right hand. The brunette turned to him as the redhead rolled onto his left side. Green eyes widened as they caught sight of him. The snake man took advantage of the distraction to target his opponent's back._

_"HARRY!"_

_With the redhead's warning, the man turned around in time to spot the green curse flying at him. It slammed into his gut and threw him to the floor. As he landed, messy bangs parted to reveal a lightning bolt scar. _

_The redhead's eyes widened as he stared at the still form. "Harry..." he breathed. Fear and anger filled his face. He rolled onto his back, shooting a bolt of bright yellow magic from his wand. It hit the reptilian man in the nose, and threw into the opposite wall. Pushing himself up to his knees, he looked back and forth between his wand and the falling snake man. "How?"_

_The sound of breaking glass filled the room. Alarmed, the redhead looked over as the woman removed the sphere from the shelf. "Stop!" he stood and rushed over to her. He aimed his wand at her as she turned. _

_"I must finish my task," she said flatly, the whites of her eyes a neon orange--the result of a recently developed ward that indicated the presence of the Imperious curse._

_"What task?" he asked calmly as he approached slowly. Individuals under Imperious were notoriously unpredictable._

_"The task my master set for me," the woman replied._

Oh, of _course, the man thought sarcastically. "What are the detai--_Master! He _ensorcelled you?" The redhead demand, and started to turn. "Then--"_

_"He's not dead?" a voice hissed in his ear as an arm wrapped around his throat. "Very careless to turn your back before checking that fact," the reptilian man seized the redhead's wand. "You will pay for your impudence, Weasley. But first, I'll let you watch as your precious Potter's prophecy is erased from history. You will witness a world where I became supreme years ago. I'll be your god, and you'll beg my forgiveness long before I grant it with the mercy of death--" _

_The dark lord's arms jerked backwards and Weasley fell from his slackened grip. Something wet and warm hit the redhead's head and neck. The woman cried out. The redhead rushed foreword and scooped the grapefruit-sized globe out of her hand as she collapsed to the floor. Absently noting the bright red splatter of arterial blood on the wall in front of him, he turned. He brought the sphere protectively to his chest, folding his right arm over it._

_And relaxed his posture as he saw Harry dragging the throat-slit corpse of the snake man to the center of the room, a bloody knife in his right hand. "He'd be our god?" Harry scoffed, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. "Just when I thought he couldn't get any crazier." The green-eyed youth looked up at Weasley. "You okay?" Harry's eyes slid to the bloody stump of his wrist. "Er..." _

_"Yes, thank you," the redhead cut him off brusquely. "So is he gone for good this time?" _

_"Well, I didn't see the disembodied spirit that I saw my first year. That should mean Ron and Hermione destroyed the last Horcrux."_

_"He's alive then?" Weasley blurted, the relief evident in his voice as he sat down on the floor._

_"Huh?"_

_The redhead flushed at Harry's bewildered look. "I know he can take care of himself--better than me, in fact. But he has always followed you into these insane messes. When he wasn't here--_Horcrux!?" _Weasley gestured at corpse, voice rising._ "He _created _Horcrux!_ And _Ron_ set out to destroy it? Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? What can happen to the wizard who tries to destroy such a dark artifact?"_

_"Yeah," Harry nodded, more blood running from the corner of his mouth. "I took out Nagini before I faced Voldemort, and the three of us spent the past year hunting down the other three." _

_"Other _THREE!? _It's possible to butcher your own soul more than once? How--That--He--Depraved--" _

"Incindio," _Harry chanted, waving his wand over the corpse. The spell cut off the redhead's splutters. _

_"Why'd you do that?" he asked. _

_"In his quest for immortality, Voldemort did dark rituals to more then just his soul. I want to be sure he stays dead this time."_

_Weasley snorted. "Even a vampire needs blood flow, despite popular myth. Still... I believe I _will_ sleep better knowing he's ash."_

_"Yeah."_

_"So Ron," Weasley began after they stared at the burning corpse a few moments. "He _is_ doing all right? Obviously you don't know if anything happened since you came here, but if he's tagged along on three similar stunts unharmed, he should--he _was _unharmed for a change, right? I mean, you're not _that _reckless with him?" _

_Harry tilted his head studied the redhead a minute. "Is that why you believed F--"_

_Weasley cut Harry off with a growl. "I get enough of that from my family! I don't need _you _rubbing it in."_

_"Well obviously you need someone to! You're actions--"_

_"I prefer not to dwell on things I can't fix, thank you. Trust me, I wish I could go back and change things, but--"_

_A bright blue light burst out from the sphere he held. Weasley fell to the ground motionless. As Harry rushed foreword to help, he hit the dome of light and collapsed...

* * *

_

With a jolt, the redhead sat up in a bed he had not seen in years.


	2. Decision

**Disclaimer: **Same as before. Not even in my dreams.

* * *

Morning in the Weasley household bustled about in the usual breakfast chaos. Molly, the red haired matriarch of the family, put platters of eggs and bacon in the center of the table. Four hungry sons instantly started vying for the food. Once the initial flurry calmed down, her husband filled his own plate. As Molly started cooking the next batch of food, a late riser began walking down the stairs. "Ginny, dear," Molly called to her. "Since you're up, could you knock on your brother's door for me?" 

The ten year-old groaned. "It's always me." She turned upstairs. A couple seconds later: "RON! GET YOUR LAZY BUM OUT OF BED!"

"Hey!" a red haired boy a year older then the girl protested as two identical thirteen year olds started laughing.

"Oh, you and Ron aren't the slugabeds today," one of them called.

"It's you and _Percy_!" the other supplied. "Mr. Perfect himself!"

"That's right, Fred," the first twin replied. "Perfect Percy Weasley is having a lie-in this morning. So be sure to bundle up..."

"...We're getting snow this afternoon!"

"Don't be daft," Ron said.

"It's more likely than Percy sleeping in," George retorted. "He gets up first even when he's sick."

Molly frowned as she cracked another egg. "The twins are right."

"We're getting _snow_?" Ron blurted.

"It's _July_," his sister called down the stairs.

"Bill, dear," Molly turned to the eldest son. "Run a vial of Pepper-Up potion to Percy. And you know the charms to check temperature and hydration? Arthur, maybe we shoulder get St. Mungo's on standby floo."

"Now Molly," her husband replied. "We don't kno--"

"_Percy_ slept in! It must be serious!"

Seeing her husband and visiting son staring at her with less than convinced expressions, Molly drew her wand and quenched the fire on the stove. She strode to the stairs as Ginny barreled down them. "He's not in his room!"

* * *

The breeze picked up as the slender redhead laid back in the grass. Loose, curly hair blew over his face. Hazel eyes opened and watched the waving strands. The sensation felt oddly pleasant. As long as Percy could remember, he had gelled his hair smartly back. This morning he had wished to slip out quickly and hadn't bothered. While his normal style looked more professional, something about just combing his hair felt incredibly freeing. 

But so did having two hands.

He raised his right arm and stared at his unharmed wrist. His wand and writing hand, it took him to the top of his Hogwarts class and further in the Ministry than any nineteen year-old should expect.

Everything he thought he dreamed of.

Sighing, he sat back up. He grabbed the Muggle sketchpad and set of colored pencils off the book bag next to him. When his lost hand had registered, the thought of never drawing again had pained him. As he could already cast spells left-handed--extremely useful when the twins tried to sneak up on him in the middle of his homework--he could practice writing until he developed a legible script. But it would never match the elegant, precise control needed to define a sketch. Next to that, the impact on his Ministry career he could not care about.

Never mind that he gave up sketching to achieve it.

Percy sighed and selected a blue pencil. He began outlining the clouds overhead. _That_ decision had freed up the study time needed to make prefect, then Head Boy. It allowed him to claim top scores on his OWLs and NEWTs. Yet it had trapped all his stresses inside.

And he had not even noticed.

Now, as each line unraveled a knot inside, it became clear: while he had never quite fit with the rest of his siblings, the real rifts had started midway through his fourth year. The twins had learned enough magic to be a menace instead of an annoyance. Charlie became more distant as he stressed over whether to play pro Quidditch or dare dragons to eat him. And Percy's patience for them plummeted to zero. Losing his temper less might not have solved things, but it could only have helped.

Instead, he snapped at every little thing, working his way to three years estrangement from his family.

In retrospect, his father may have had reason to feel suspicious of the promotion. But did he really have to call Percy incompetent? And why could he not see how negligent Dumbledore had been?

If only he had not blown up at his father like that. It made working at the ministry hell. He hated knowing those cold brown eyes would slide past him without a hint of recognition. He had forced his own eyes to avoid the figure as they passed in the halls, a shield against his own shame. After Harry had proved Voldemort's return, things went from bad to worse. Before, he had taken comfort in working for the good of the Wizarding World. Without that, he thought he had nothing...

_When the Death Eaters attacked the Ministry, it had seemed like relief. Despite his achievements, Percy lacked confidence in his abilities. Certain he would die, an odd calm filled him. He walked to the battle as most around him tried to find escape routes. Determined to take as many white-masked fighters with him as he could, he focused solely on the current dodge and attack. Where the battle drifted, whom he fought with and who had fallen did not register._

_Then the man who had stood next to him for several volleys cried out as his leg buckled. Fear started to fill Percy as he moved to cover the fallen ally. The move took the two remaining Death Eaters by surprise. That gave him the chance to dispatch one. After a minute, he got lucky and dropped the second._

_Only after he knelt down to aid the fallen man, did Percy consciously recognize his father._

_He quickly realized that he had known that all along--but not before his blurted _'Father!?'

_The older Weasley did not take offense. He just smiled sadly at his son's flushing face. "Your Uncle Gideon used get like that when fighting. You always did remind your Mum of him."_

_For the first time in years, Arthur Weasley had looked his son in the eye and acknowledged him. And everything Percy had wanted to say at such a chance collided and jammed in his throat. All he could do was stare dumbly at his sitting father. Before Percy could unclog his words, the older redhead's expression closed and he turned away, staring down a side corridor. Sighing sadly, Percy also turned away. He could hear the sounds of battle nearby. They grew louder. He spared a glance at his father: his mangled leg could not hold weight. His breathing had grown more strained._

_The light of a stray curse flashed across the end of the hallway. Any minute the battle could turn from one hall and flow straight at them._

_"We need to find you cover," Percy said abruptly._

_At the same time his father spoke. "You should get out of the open."_

_Ignoring his father's words, Percy squatted behind him, shifting his wand to his left hand. He slipped his other arm under Arthur's and wrapped it around his chest. Percy stood, wincing as his father hissed in pain. "I just need to get you into the nearest office. I'll try not to jar your leg too much."_

_The older redhead brought his hand up to his son's wrist and attempted to pull the arm away. "You can't defend yourself wi--" Arthur's hand slipped down his wrist, catching against the Muggle ID bracelet Penny had given him for his nineteenth birthday. "You!" His father stiffened in Percy's arms. "That was _you_ that night in the hospital?"_

_"I'm sorry," Percy blurted. "I was told you wouldn't wake."_

_"So you ran out?"_

_"I knew I shouldn't have gone," Percy admitted as he started walking backwards, dragging his father._

_"Why even come, then?" Arthur demanded harshly, keeping most of his pain from his voice._

_"I couldn't stay away."_

_"Didn't act like it at Christmas. There was no sign of you then."_

_"I know when I'm not wanted!" Percy snapped._

_"When_ you're _not wanted!? _You _left."_

_"_After _you disowned me."_

_"Di-_DISOWNED!? _Percy! I didn't! I'd _ne--"

_"'No son of mine would ever question Dumbledore'," Percy mimicked._

_"I never meant--"_

"_Never mind the countless times Dumbledore nearly got my youngest kids killed."_

_"I never said that!" his father protested. "And where did you get such a loony notion of Dumbledore?"_

_"Loony?_ LOON--"_ Percy paused and drew a deep breath. "Trolls chasing Philosopher's stones and head trauma from giant chess sets. Allowing three-headed dogs to in live in the castle. Turning a blind eye to the twins' jaunts in the forest. Petrified cats and ghosts and schools that wouldn't close. Petrified _students _and schools that _still _didn't close. _Ginny _got nabbed as a result! Werewolves roaming loose under the full moon. Allowing Hagrid to 'teach' care of those blast-ended demons. Second Task. How could you and Mother _not_?"_

_"If you felt that way, why didn't you say anything _before_ Fudge gave you that job?"_

_"I _did_! But heaven forbid you bother your time with me!"_

_"Percy!" his father exclaimed, sounding hurt. "You know that's not true!"_

_Percy snorted._

_"I've always had time for--"_

_"Everyone else."_

_"And you!" Arthur protested._

_"To toss me a book--"_

_"You like books!"_

_"And send me to my room," Percy continued over his father's interruption._

_"You'd run off to read!"_

_"While you played Quidditch--"_

_"You won't even touch a broom!"_

_"Or Gobstones with the others!"_

_"OH, COME ON!" Arthur exploded as Percy finally reached the office door. "You always cared more about your own goals then family! Thinking mere school badges--"_

_"I worked hard for those badges!"_

_"Were all the family should talk about!"_

_"I suppose it _would_ have killed you to be half as proud as you were of Bill!" Percy angrily waved his wand at the door to scan for magic.  
_

_"And later, how you had 'important work' to do--"_

_"Or offer me a single bit of advice!"_

_"After Fudge promoted you--"_

_"_Still_ not good enough for you!" The office had no people or traps. Percy spelled the door open. __He barely noticed his father's words as they started talking over each other._

_"We were too beneath you!" Arthur continued on, heedless of his son's voice. "Fudge and Scridgemour are gone, and __you still can't bear to even__ talk to me!"_

_"Even now, you __clammed up after you realized __you were talking to me!__"_

_Father and son both fell silent as Percy finished dragging Arthur into the large office. It rather looked like the Department of International Magical Co-operation's conference room. Percy shut the door, and spotted a poorly repaired scratch on the door. It _was _the familiar conference room. How did he get to the fifth floor? He had been down on the seventh in the Ludicrous Patents Office..._

_His father's words sank in. "I never thought," Percy started just as his father started speaking:_

_"I've always been proud--"_

_The ceiling at the other end of the room shattered, debris flying at the pair. Before they could move, Percy found himself falling. Pain induced stars filled his vision. His breath flew out of him as he hit the floor. His father fell on top of his left side. Percy gasped for breath and choked on dust. He blinked as his vision cleared. Light and noise streamed down from the ceiling._

_"...Think the last one fell through the hole my stray hex made," a voice called from above._

_"Be careful!" another voice cried as Percy struggled to sit up. The pain he had initially felt had receded, though his entire right hand had filled with a dull ache. His father slid limply off of him. A Death Eater had fallen through the hole from the floor above and appeared to have either died or knocked himself out. _

Died or knocked out...

_"Dad?"_

_Bubble-gum pink hair and a hand clasping a wand lowered themselves through the hole. "He's down here, all right," Percy heard the first voice say dimly, as he turned to the side. Arthur Weasley lay limp on the floor, dull eyes staring blankly. A piece of support beam sat in his chest. Percy stared at the base of the beam, and noticed a piece of familiar chain. Somehow his ID bracelet had come loose and gotten stuck under the beam. Blood stained his father's robes around the wound. Not much, but the dark red liquid had not been there before..._

Percy hugged his knees to his chest as he fought back the tears brought on by the rush of memories. The sketchpad and pencils sat forgotten next to him. _Stupid,_ he thought angrily. _He's not gone anymore._

_But he _was another part of his brain answered. _And you can never make things right with _that_ father._

And without that, his brothers and sister would never have forgiven him--nor allowed their mother. His father's death had marked the permanent loss of his whole family.

Though Percy had not realized that at the time…

_He had just stood there, tears running down his cheeks as a gnarled ex-Auror persisted in trying to shove a calming potion down his throat. Granted, telling them his father had a bad leg wound _had_ been rather daft given the giant piece of shrapnel lodged in his chest. And they had had no business knowing if his father had meant to disown him or not._

_Though that statement had made the man--Moody, Percy recalled--soften his manner towards him._

_Still, grief did not automatically equal hysteria. If anyone needed the blasted potion, it was that junior Auror--Bonks?--with suddenly tawny hair. She would not _shut up_ about how sorry she felt. Tears streamed down her face as she treated his handless wrist. Percy frigging knew that the cave-in had been purely accidental. If anything, he should have a word with the maintenance wizards. Had they maintained the Ministry to official specifications, the floor would not have collapsed so spectacularly from one stray _reducto

_No matter how questionable her use of blasting spells in a subterranean complex._

Or mine, or Dad's, or the Death Eaters...

_Still, the woman _had_ just killed his father. He would have preferred not to be around her while he mourned. Instead, he had to listen to her put on a show over someone she probably never even met…_

_There's nothing to mourn now_, he told himself firmly, sniffling. _With luck, there won't be again._ Percy sighed and stuck his hand in his pocket, caressing the small pin he had slipped in there. He had loved receiving it the first time around. Proof that _someone_ had recognized his achievements, he tried to never let it out of his sight. Everything after school had made it feel meaningless. And given what his father had said...

Coming to a decision, Percy grabbed his bag and stowed the pad and pencils. If nothing else, he could change how his family saw him. He stood and walked briskly back to town.


	3. Return to School

I apologize for the long wait, but real life invaded my writing time throughout most of spring.

**Disclaimer: **I still only dream that I own. Anything in bold is quoted from the first book. All other words are mine.

* * *

Percy sighed and started scrubbing the next plate. After three years on his own, he had grown accustomed to managing his own time. He had thought nothing of going for a walk to sort his thoughts.

And with waking up seven years before the devastation of the Ministry, his thoughts had needed plenty of sorting. He had barely remembered to scribble out a note to leave with his brothers' school letters. Unfortunately, no one had found the things promptly.

As Percy returned in the mid-afternoon, his mother had had plenty of time to fume. _At least Mum's lecture did not last near as long as the one over not obeying Father's demands that I turn down that promotion. _She had started _that _one the moment he opened his flat door and continued on long after Percy had reached his limit and shut the door. _Honestly! I was nineteen, not nine._

Percy ducked the plate under the rinse water, and placed it in the dish rack. _And what are you now?_ he wondered, staring at his reflection in the soapy water._ Twenty-one? Or fourteen?_

"I deactivated the autodry charms on the towels, too."

"Yes, Mum," Percy responded dully as she placed a stack of dishtowels on the counter. He started on the next plate. At least Muggle drying made a simpler chore than Muggle scrubbing. "Don't take that tone with me!" his mother snapped. "I expected more from you!"

_You always did, _Percy thought bitterly. "Sorry, Mum," he replied as one of the twins--George, he thought--spoke up from the living room:

"Yeah, you expected him to be prefect!"

"Poor Percy, just fourteen..."

"No badge..."

"Unsuitable for a life of petty rule-breaking..."

"He's nothing."

"Be quiet you two!" Molly snapped. "Your brother works hard at school, and doesn't need your nonsense!"

"That's our Perce!" Fred cheered. "In trouble and still the favorite!"

Two pairs of footsteps scrambled up the stairs. Molly shook her head and walked out of the kitchen.

Bill walked in. "Don't let them get to you," he said. "They're just--"

"Disappointed I didn't give them a badge to target," Percy cut him off. "Calling me a failure now isn't as fun as parading the fact that I could never make them half as proud as when you made prefect."

_"Proud!?"_

"It's all they talked your fifth year," Percy replied, moving on to the glasses. "They thought that your having a school rank was the most brilliant thing they'd ever heard of."

"They broke into my trunk and coated my badge with gnome piss!"

"They're Fred and George, what do you expect?" Percy rinsed the first glass. _What did _I _ever expect? _ He spotted a smear on the side of the glass and scrubbed over it again. "Trust me, while you were at school, they were impressed--especially if they had a chance to compare us." Percy rinsed the glass again. The smear had only spread. Percy frowned and held the glass up to the light. _Why those..._

Bill laughed. "Those two are something else, all right. But don't let them get to you. They have no idea how hard it is to make prefect. Or how it hurts not to receive something you wanted."

Sighing, Percy threw his right arm back so that the glass was inches away from Bill's nose. "You ever see a grease smear made solely out of tiny hexagons?" he asked.

"Percy, I understand if you'd rather not talk about it--"

Percy turned and looked into Bill's blue eyes. "I never said I was upset about not making prefect--I never even said that I _didn't_ make prefect. The twins suggested I _couldn't _have, and everyone just agreed. Now would you _please _undo the jinx those hellions placed on this glass?"

Bill took the glass from Percy, tilting his head to the left. Bill's red hair brushed his shoulder. _I wonder if he's decided to grow it into a ponytail yet..._

"Granted, they should have let you answer Mum, but what else could you possibly have needed to 'sort your thoughts' about?" Bill handed the glass back to Percy. "It'll wash off once it spreads too thin."

"I'm impressed. I didn't think the twins were capable of a curse you couldn't break," Percy responded sarcastically. He set the glass behind the sink and grabbed another one from the soapy water.

Bill gave Percy a sour look. "Mum's upset enough with you. She specified no magic."

Percy cocked a finger at the cursed glass as he rinsed the second one. "The _twins_ disobeyed that, not me." He set the second glass in the rack and moved on.

"Trust me, you're better off scrubbing."

Percy snorted.

"It shouldn't take that much more time," Bill replied cheerfully. "Percy, you're a clever and responsible kid. I'm sure you'd have been a terrific prefect. You're not making it says more about the quality of competition..."

Sighing, Percy tuned Bill out. Why _did I miss_ _this place?_

* * *

_By the time Percy returned from Ottery St. Catchpole, he wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed. _

_He had awakened around four, and had left the house by five. Percy had walked--and ran--toward town. He arrived well before the art shop opened, as unsettled and itching to draw as when he started._

_The door to The Burrow opened before he reached it. "It's about time!" his mother raged. "What were you thinking? Taking off... Leaving us unaware--" _

_"I left a note!" Percy protested. _

_"Left a note? 'Sorting thoughts. Will take a while'. You call _that _leaving_ _a note? Not a single word about _where _you were, w_hat _you'd be doing, or _when _you'd return! That was _not _a note!"_

_"Yes it was," Percy replied. "Though not good one, I guess," he added hastily at his Mum's expression. "I'm sorry. I'll do better next time."_

_"NEXT TIME?" Molly Weasley thundered. "YOU'RE PLANNING ON PULLING THIS AGAIN?" Percy winced at her volume. "YOU CAN'T JUST GO OFF TO--WHERE _DID _YOU GO?"_

_"Walking," Percy replied. "I went a little past town and back."_

_"TO TOWN! WHAT IF YOU'D BEEN HIT BY ONE OF THOSE MUGGLE LORRIES? HOW WOULD WE KNOW IF YOU WERE LAYING DEAD IN THE ROAD?"_

_"Family clock," Percy muttered, more than a little annoyed about being treated as a child. He looked over his mother's shoulder at the Prewitt heirloom. Percy could only see half its hands._

_"WHAT POSSESSED _YOU _TO DO SUCH A THING?" _

_"Isn't it obvious?" Fred asked flying over from where the twins were practicing their Quidditch skills. Percy looked at him and stepped back. Windswept red hair framed a face of raw muscles and tendons. Fred slung his bat over his shoulder as empty sockets leered straight into Percy's eyes. "Perfect Percy wasn't good enough for prefect!"_

_"No..." Percy took another step back and hit the wall of the Department of Mysteries. "That couldn't have been you."_

_Fred laughed. "Not so clever after all, Perce?" _

_A loud curse exploded down the hall. Percy turned and ran into the last room. Instead of finding the sealed Orb of the Time Thief, he ran into The Burrow's grass garden. Two tables had been set together for supper. His parents ate on opposite ends of the long table. Bill, Ginny and the twins filled one side of the table. On the other side sat Ron, Harry and Hermione. "There you are," Bill said casually cutting off a piece of roast. "How are the cauldron bottoms?" He lifted his fork--the bite of meat now one of the Egyptian beetles the twins once laced his soup with--and popped it into his mouth._

_"Captivating," Charlie called over from the vegetable garden. He stood with his back toward everyone. "They're taking Percy up in the Ministry. Too high for us," Charlie turned around. His gut had been ripped open. His entrails spilled out, dragging on the ground. A section of bowel was flattened and split open. "Until its too late. He'll have all ready trampled us."_

_Ginny screamed. Percy whirled around. Voldemort stood behind her. She and Fred--with his face again blasted off--slumped dead in their chairs. The rest of the table continued eating beetles, unaware of the red-eyed menace._

_Voldemort stalked around the table, aiming and retracting his wand at the back of each person's head. He stopped and kept his wand pointed at Ron's neck. _

_Percy unfroze and pulled his wand as Voldemort began the lethal incantation of the killing curse. Percy aimed his wand straight at Voldemort before he realized his arm ended at the wrist. _

_His wand fell to the ground. _

_Voldemort completed his spell..._

Percy sat up, gasping for breath and tangled in his sheets. He kicked them away. Percy rushed to the window and opened it. The night air was still. He sighed and sat at his desk, laying his head and arms on the cool surface. _It wasn't Fred,_ he told himself fiercely. It did nothing to calm his doubts. The body he tripped over had a similar bone structure to the twins--as well as Charlie, and many other people. With the dim light in the corridor, Percy could not have recognized anything more--he did not _want _to know if it was possible to recognize the features of a skinless face.

He did know that he never saw Charlie at the final battle. He did see a few disemboweled Ministry workers--he trampled the intestines of one while trying to maintain balance and counter an oncoming hex at once--but _she _was not Charlie.

Something soft nuzzled his hand. Percy looked up and scooped the gray rat up. "Hey, Scabs," he said softly, bringing the rat up to his chest. "I'm all right." He scratched the top of Scabbers' head. "Just a nightmare." Scabbers walked back and forth between Percy's hands. "You-Know-Who was killing everyone."

And _he _would start killing again. Less then four years from now, Pettigrew would revive the vanquished--

Percy froze as Scabbers sat on his hind legs, bringing his forearms up to his mouth for grooming. Percy reached up and grabbed the left paw. The rat had lacked his last toe for as long as Percy could remember. Percy never thought much of it, but now his mind focused on the report of Sirius Black's innocence: Pettigrew was an illegal Animagus. He cut his own finger off, blasted the street behind him, and escaped down the sewers _as a rat_.

_It can't be,_ Percy told himself. _Scabbers died._

_But... someone who faked his death once, could fake it again._ _There was no body. Ron just assumed the bloody cat ate Scabbers._

Percy frowned and bit his lip. _Dumbledore listed Ron as a witness. If it_ had _been Scabbers, surely Ron would've said _something_. I know he pulled away after meeting Harry, but--_

Scabbers climbed up to Percy's right shoulder and nuzzled the redhead's ear with his nose. Percy smiled weakly. "Sorry, boy." He reached up and scratched the rat's back. "I'm not up to talking about it."

_It's not him. Probably. Even if it is, I can't do anything about it for now..._

* * *

The racket at King's Cross Station made Percy's head pound. People swarmed everywhere, rushing to catch their trains.

"GINNY! STAY WITH ME!"

Ginny moved back to their mother's side--from four feet away. The plump woman reached out and grabbed her daughter's hand. "That's it dear. Now remember, you must keep the platform number in mind as you pass through the barrier. What is it?"

"I'm not stupid! I know it isn't ten and one-eighth!" Ginny protested.

"Yeah, she's not as fun..."

"...As ickle Ronnie," the twins chimed in.

"And being so clever, I should go Hogwarts!"

"Ginny--"

"You said yourself, my accidental mag--"

"Ginny!" Their mother snapped. "Watch what you say."

"But why?"

"Because this place is **packed with Muggles, of course.**"

_Like Mum's being any more discreet. _Percy found that observation more annoying than the last time around.

"**Now, what's the platform number?**"

Ginny sighed audibly. "**Nine and three-quarters! Mum, can't I go...**"

"**You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first.**"

_Gladly._ Percy pushed his trunk through the barrier. Once on the magical platform, he quickly made his way down to the first two cars. Behind him, he heard the twins come through the portal. "Oi, Perce," Fred called after him. "We're too late for anything but the back cars to be free."

Percy smirked slightly and paused. "I have a spot saved. I'll help you look after I'm squared away." He continued on, ignoring the squeaky wheel of George's trolley following him. Percy stopped at the second passenger car and hoisted his luggage inside.

Unlike the subsequent cars, the Prefects' cars were not divided into compartments. Dark gray carpet covered the floors. The medium-gray seats were mounted below the windows and faced a table in the middle of the car. Shades covered the windows.

The Head Boy, a seventh-year Ravenclaw by the name of Clese, directed him to a free seat. "Grab your robes and change now. We have a lot to cover. As Percy nodded, Fred and George stuck their heads in the door.

"Blimey!" Fred exclaimed. "Any room..."

"...Left for us?"

"Prefects only!" Clese snapped.

"Then what's Perce doing here?" Fred blurted.

"What do you think?" Percy asked, opening his trunk.

"I don't think they're likely to change their minds," Fred retorted.

"Why would I want them to?"

"Don't you want to be a prefect?" George asked.

"So why would I change that?" Two identical jaws dropped as Percy pulled out the set of robes he had set on top of his trunk. Hand-me-downs, but not worn enough to look shabby. "We're leaving soon. You'd better find a free compartment."

"You lied to us!" Fred accused.

"_You _never bothered to ask," Percy stalked over to the door. "Now go find somebody you care about." He pushed them back and closed door.

The twins slowly walked back down the length of the train. _They look almost hurt..._

Percy shoved that thought out of mind and started changing into his robes. "What was that about?" John Robinson, a sixth year Hufflepuff demanded. Percy looked up and saw Clese and the other prefects staring at him. "Do you think a prefect badge is something to take lightly? Worth only a petty trick on your family?"

Percy stared into Robinson's brown eyes. "Five years ago, my eldest brother made prefect. I thought it the most brilliant thing ever. _They_," Percy cocked a thumb towards the car's door, "celebrated by breaking into his school trunk and painting his badge with gnome piss."

"_Gnome_ piss?" Zane Taylor asked. "Where'd they get their hands on that?"

Percy sighed, tossed his shirt onto his seat, and answered the older Gryffindor. "Our garden's perpetually infested thanks to a hex of my uncle's. _How _they managed to collect it without getting scratched, much less maimed, I don't know--and I don't _want _to know. Anyway, _that _was just a start," Percy slipped into his robes, "and their biggest change since then is that they've learned some magic. When everyone assumed I _had _to have been passed over, I figured I could at least have a month free of thoroughly inspecting and polishing the badge every time it was out of my sight more than a second."

"Looks like you found a way around that," Bartholomew Smith drawled.

"Only because they didn't know to look for it." Percy removed his badge from a chain around his neck, fastened his robes over the chain, and attached the badge to his robes. He pulled Scabbers from his shirt pocket and tossed his shirt into his trunk. Percy shoved the trunk into the magically expanded storage beneath his seat. "I need to say goodbye to my family," he said curtly, dropping the rat into a robe pocket. "I won't take long."

Twenty minutes later found Percy sitting in the Prefects' Meeting, the two cars merged into one carriage. Clese and the Head Girl--Victoria Smith, Bartholomew's twin sister--went over the responsibilities of the Prefects. Percy feigned interest--he _had _heard the speech twice before, and helped give it once. Scabbers slept in his lap, and Percy scratched his tiny head to keep himself distracted from the desire to pull out his sketchpad.

Trees flitted past the opposite window, and food sat on the table. Lunch appealed to Percy just as much as the meeting. _It'll only last an hour longer, _Percy told himself. _And six hours after that, you'll be at Hogwarts--And you can finally start solving your questions._

Unfortunately, thoughts of the approaching library only made him more nervous.


	4. Drifting

**Disclaimer: **Don't own, and never claimed to.

* * *

_The general perception of time as a straightforward force is inaccurate. Time flows like a river: the main current goes in a single path, but individual eddies can ripple backwards or diverge around an obstacle before rejoining the main body. Time turners work by hitching a ride on these natural backflows. Prophecy is an instinctive ability to read the patterns of time, including, but not limited to, these backflows._

_--Temporus Trelawney in his book __Precognition Revealed__, published 1776._

_What has passed can never truly unpass. If one were to travel backwards through time, they would retain their memories and skills, because those events had happened in their past. Even if they began rewriting events, like an erasing charm on parchment, the overwritten events remain on some level. While there is no revealing charm to show the full text of the replaced timeline, magical folk and creatures can subconsciously pick up on pieces of the previous timeline.* This most often occurs as either intense déjà vu or unusually realistic dreams of events that never happened. Sometimes a wizard receives a flash of insight that allows him to learn faster or make wiser choices than the first time around._

_Like a section of parchment that has suffered repeated erasing charms, it is theorized that repeatedly turning back a section of time can cause that section to disintegrate, thus destroying the whole. The validity of this theory has been questioned, as time appears to periodically jump back and overwrite _itself. _Still, the potential consequences are too great to test this theory. For this reason, time travel is strictly regulated. As the main stressor is the act of travel itself, only short-term trips, a few hours at most, are allowed. This minimizes disruptions, as these events are still highly fluid. Strict secrecy and restraints on the actions allowed in the past serve to discourage the unsophisticated from attempting such travel. _

_*Some anecdotes would suggest that Muggles have this capability as well. Aside from the fact not one of these accounts can offer a scrap of proof, such self-awareness is clearly beyond the limited capabilities of the magicless. Still, this belief persists among many otherwise intelligent Muggle-lovers. _

_--Purity Longbottom in her 1865 dissertation. Reprinted in __The Well of Time__, 1966._

* * *

And he had thought fifteen sucked the first time around.

Percy stared up at the clouds drifting by. The crisp autumn wind cut through his cloak and robes--He really should have layered up more before climbing to the top of the Astronomy tower. He glanced down at his Transfiguration essay. From McGonagall's red markings, she was disappointed that he only made Acceptable. It had been the same in all his classes over the past month. He had heard all his class lectures before, and found his attention drifting. But he had not used most of his school knowledge for four years. He needed _some _revising to make his previous top grades, but seemed to have left his motivation seven years in the future.

Further, between his 'prank' over his badge and his lack of rapt attention in the prefects' carriage, Percy had managed to alienate the few prefects he had previously been friends with. He had somehow managed to offend most of his other friends, as well. Only Oliver treated him normally--though the Quidditch-mad Scot tended to only register what affected either his grades or his precious game. He and Percy were only casual friends, anyway. So between the motions of taking notes and patrolling the halls, Percy spent most of his time in some isolated spot drawing. At this rate, he would exhaust his pads and pencils by Christmas. The summertime Galleons-to-Pounds exchange rate _had_ expanded his manic buy-art-supplies-until-your-last-Knut-is-gone fit. Still, his shrunken stash only held so much.

At least the twins had not managed to find it. Wards and secrecy spells were _one _skill he had improved since Hogwarts.

Percy closed his eyes as the breeze picked up. What free time he did not spend drawing, he attempted to research the Orb of the Time Thief. The unrestricted section held more actual references to the damned thing than he had expected. Unfortunately, none of them told him anything more than he all ready knew:

Also called the Seer's Sphere, the orb had the power to rewrite history. Origins unknown, it was feared the artifact had the ability to permanently fracture time. The Ministry forbade its use. The Wizengamot immediately ordered the Dementor's Kiss on all who attempted to go near it. No exceptions.

_But nothing to indicate how much someone who _did _go back could safely change, _Percy grumbled. _Or how much that person _must _change._

The Orb _had _reacted to Percy's wish to change things, after all. At the time, he had been thinking about his family. His relationship with them was minor compared to Voldemort. But...

Sometimes little acts had big effects. With dangerous events unfolding, Percy feared Ron or Ginny would die in the next couple of years instead being injured. _ And then there's the _war_... _

Percy walked to the edge of the tower and leaned against the waist-high wall. _Can I really just stand by and do nothing while Cedric and Mr. Crouch die, and _he _returns? But if I don't, he'd eventually return anyway. What if that results in higher casualties?_ Percy sighed and ran a hand through his loose hair. _I wish somebody would come tell me what's best, _he thought as he turned and walked to the stairs. He descended slowly into the tower, still pondering the puzzle.

* * *

_Two feet, five inches on the use of the animus charm, outlined however you wish._

Percy sighed and stared at the precisely copied assignment. _However I wish? _he thought. _I wonder what Flitwick would do if I turned the parchment sideways and turned in charmed illustrations of all possible uses..._

"Staring won't salvage your marks, Weasley," a snide voice came from across the table.

Percy glared at the speaker. "Contrary to popular rumor, I've yet to fail a single test or assignment."

"That explains why we're here," Zane Taylor replied sarcastically.

"I thought it was because Vicki Smith decided that as prefects we had a responsibility to be seen studying as much as possible," Percy replied idly, opening a book on Charms that he had plucked from the library shelves.

"You know of any other fifth years paired with an older housemate?" the sixth-year asked as a pair of second year Hufflepuffs walked past.

"I'm not the one who set the schedule," Percy countered. He picked up his quill and began writing on a scrap of parchment:

_Developed to animate Wizarding photographs. Also used for toys, models, sketches, and non-interactive portraits. _

"Have you read it?" Taylor responded. "No other two prefects have been paired together consistently. Or assigned as many slots."

"So, any rumors about _your _grades?" Percy asked caustically as he scribbled down supporting points and began organizing them. He knew for a fact that Smith's scheme had nothing to do with McGonagall's well-known disappointment in Percy's current performance. However, he did not remember having so many mandated study sessions. Nor was he paired so regularly with Zane Taylor.

Not that he would have minded last time around.

The enforced study time would likely do him _some_ good, though Percy's attention still tended to drift.

"_I _don't stare blankly at my assignments," Taylor said icily.

Percy ignored him and scribbled a few more points into his rough outline. He put stars next to points he needed to review. He flipped a page in the text and began reading on the first. _Damn, _he thought as he scratched the phrase from his outline and wrote a corrected version. _I wasn't sure about it, but if I misremembered _that _badly, I should at least skim over all the points._

"Do you even open a book or read your notes outside of assignments?"

"If I need too," Percy replied, skipping ahead to the next paragraph.

Taylor snorted and turned to his own homework. Thankfully, he did not hassle Percy for the rest of the session.

* * *

_See me after class. _Percy sighed as he read Flitwick's note at the top of his essay. Great. Another teacher disappointed with his progress. Granted, his final draft had inexplicably turned out two inches shorter than it should have. Frustrated with the assignment--and the importance placed on the charm--Percy had hastily added a few sentences rather than recopy the whole thing. Even with docked points, the paper still should have been Acceptable quality.

Sighing, he skimmed down the scroll to see how badly he had done. He absently noted a few red comments in the margins. Red ink surrounded the final paragraph. Underneath the essay, Flitwick had written: _The most original thought you've ever expressed in this class. O._

Percy blinked. Outstanding. While he may not have received any grades below Acceptable over the past six weeks, he had barely made anything over it--just a handful of Exceeds Expectations. Granted, most of those _were _in Charms.

Percy slowly gathered up his stuff as Flitwick dismissed the class. He waited until most of the students filed out of the room before he stood and approached the master's desk. "You wanted to see me, Professor?"

"Yes," the short man gave Percy a small smile. "It's not often that I hear the _animus _charm described as 'overrated' and 'responsible for the decline of Wizarding artistry'. How did you reach that conclusion? Your essay didn't list any sources."

"Well, all the great Wizarding masterpieces either predate its discovery or were made just a decade or two afterward."

"That may be, but some of the great masters were not appreciated in their own time. Do you have anything else?"

"I..." Percy paused and frowned. "Compared to now, there was more focus on developing an artist's skill. The Ministry and wealthy families sponsored the studies of painters and sculptors. Sketches weren't worth procuring for their own sake, but the publishing industry recruited and trained illustrators. Those artists created detailed works that _last_. The _animus_ charm is unique in that it can fill in details. Wizards began relying on that fact, so the charm has less to anchor to, and it fades faster than it otherwise would--if at all. If works today were created with the attention to detail afforded then, the charm should last as long--and you're left with something appreciable if the charm does fade."

"Interesting hypothesis," Flitwick commented. "But how can you be sure? Maybe the charm just fades faster than the older ones. After all, memorial portraits still last--the charms that allow interactive conversation preclude the use of _animus_."

"Again, other charms can't fill in detail. Most of today's portraits are either criticized for poor likeness or are just large photographs with brush stroke 'finishing' added," Percy retorted. "Further, do you ever hear complaints about old photographs losing their charm? Sure, the developing potions have differences from charmable inks and paints, but the basic brewing techniques and active ingredients are consistent. Still photographs are incredibly detailed. Dispersive Theory states that thousands of tiny anchors bond a spell closer and more securely than a handful of large ones. And a spell's longevity increases exponentially with stability and/or a decrease in the gap between a spell and its object."

Flitwick raised an eyebrow. "It's also not everyday you hear a fifth-year referring to late seventh-year Arithmancy studies," he remarked dryly.

_Damn! _Percy cursed to himself.

The diminutive professor smiled. "As much time as you spent trailing after those older brothers of yours, I'm not surprised you picked up a few things. Anyway, you have overlooked the fact that wizards had more _interest _in lasting art back then. Artists need to create for the market, if they want to earn a living. Even the wealthy families are not willing to invest in works that cannot be mass-produced quickly--New ones at any rate. Lucius Malfoy just spent all the galleons I'll ever see in my lifetime on a Clarence Prewitt."

_And seven years from now, an ignorant Auror trainee will torch it in his zeal to destroy all the manor's dark artifacts._

Some of Percy's anger must have shown on his face, because Flitwick frowned. "Well, no use wishing for what'll never be."

"True," Percy answered automatically. _Safer than wishing for things that _shouldn't _be, though._

"Anyway, I'll be setting a research essay next week," Flitwick plucked a slip of parchment off his desk and held it out to Percy. "Since you seem so interested in artistry, you might want to check out this book. For the essay's size, I'd advise a narrower topic than the differences between the _animus _and older charms. You're not exactly wrong in your assertions, but it's a more complex issue than what we've discussed here, and there are things you've overlooked.

"You are to be commended for thinking clearly enough to spot that there is a problem, though," Flitwick concluded as Percy accepted the slip of parchment. "Perhaps we can revisit it in the future."

"Thank you, sir," Percy looked at the slip. It was a permission form to check _Bring Your Paintings to Life _out of-- "The Restricted Section?" he blurted.

Flitwick smiled. "Current Ministry classifications prohibit the use of some of those old-time charms, but the book's rare and valuable enough that it would not sit on common-access shelves, anyway. Treat it with respect."

"Yes, sir."

Percy smiled as he went off to lunch. Flitwick may have just given him the key he needed...

* * *

Percy sighed as he leaned against the side of the restricted section's first shelf.

Careful examination of Flitwick's permission slip proved that alteration or duplication would be tricky--and likely detectable. He rather suspected that Madam Pince kept records and checked with the Professors anyway. Obliviating the old librarian's memory was within Percy's abilities, but not without risk.

Naturally, Pince had not allowed him to follow her down the aisle as she retrieved the book. From what he could see, though, she did not cast any charms before she pulled the book from the shelf. Whatever ward or alarm guarded the books recognized their tender. If he could only see how, perhaps--

A hand grasped his wrist and yanked him away from the shelves. Instantly, Percy twisted his arm free and pulled back. He over balanced and caught himself against the shelf. A couple books slid forward. _What the hell? They should--Later._ Percy hastily pushed them back into place as he stood to face his attacker. "What are you doing, Robinson?" he hissed, glancing to the left. Madam Pince walked calmly towards them, giving no sign of having seen anything. _Her back must have still been turned._

"What am _I _doing?" the older prefect replied. "If you're going to wear that badge, you shouldn't lurk about the forbidden section where anyone can see you. You have a duty to set a proper example--"

"I know my duties," Percy said.

"Then--"

_"Hem-hem."_

Robinson jumped at the sound. "Madam Pince! I was just telling Weasley to--"

"He was just asking me about the permission slip Professor," Percy interjected smoothly. "He pointed out that just because we're prefects, we shouldn't overlook something that we'd otherwise question."

"I am quite capable of spotting forged slips," Pince replied frostily. "As you should remember."

Robinson turned an interesting shade of red. "Mark said it was real!"

"And _I _told you it wasn't. I suggest you go attend to your _actual _duties."

"Yes, ma'am." Robinson gave Percy a dark glare before stamping off.

"As for you," Pince locked her eyes with Percy's. "I didn't hear much, but what you told me seemed to take Robinson by surprise." She pursed her lips and waited for his reply.

"He accused me of trying to sneak into the section," Percy said. Pince's eyes narrowed. "I don't know why he thought that. Anyway, I was trying to tell him not to make assumptions."

"I see," Pince replied evenly. "In the future try to make your points without misleading the staff."

"Yes, ma'am." Percy replied evenly, waiting for her to continue her lecture. _Yet another person I've offended..._

Pince turned and walked towards her desk. After a few steps, she paused and looked over her shoulder. "Well?" she asked. "You _do _intend to check the book out, don't you?"

Percy blinked. "Yes, ma'am." He rushed to catch up with her. "I'm sorry. About earlier... with Robinson," he added at her questioning look.

Pince nodded as she wrote the book's name in her register. "Just don't do it again." She wrote Percy's name down next to the book. "It'll be due back in a month."

Pince filled out the reminder slip and charmed it to the inside cover before handing the book over to Percy.

"Thank you." He stowed the book in his bag, then walked over to the study table to await Taylor. He pulled his Arithmancy text out and stared at it's pages as he tried ignore Robinson's eyes on the back of his head. He periodically turned pages, but his thoughts were ten--_three_--years in the past...

_Three months into Percy's second year, he and Oliver Wood were assigned to a team Herbology project. They had gone to the library to research their initial essay. Just as their attention drifted from Mandrakes to Quidditch stats, several dungbombs went off just outside the library. All eyes followed Madam Pince as she rushed out to lecture the culprits._

_Until a blond forth year walked past their table. Oliver nudged Percy. "Isn't that the Restricted Section?"_

_"I think so." Percy kept his eyes glued to the Gryffindor girl. "Wasn't that her brother with the dungbombs?" _

_"Er..." As Oliver turned to look again at the Hufflepuff Pince had nabbed, the girl grabbed a book in front of her. As she pulled the book out, a loud, terrible, banshee-like wail filled the library. The girl dashed out of the section, book clutched to her chest. Her eyes widened and she tossed the book onto Percy and Oliver's table as she ran. _

_"Hey!" Percy and Oliver shouted after her as Pince summoned the book..._

Percy tapped his quill against a piece of parchment as he absently turned another page. Then he frowned as he realized what he had done. _When did I grab my quill? _He sighed and turned another page. _Never mind. It's not simply pulling the books that activate the wards. Intent? Occlumency could--No. I'd have to _project _a sense of accident. _

Percy frowned and ran through his usual mind-clearing exercises before checking his existing shields. They remained as intact as when he erected them that morning. While Percy hardly qualified as an expert Occlumens, he had read up on the subject after Fudge brought him into his staff. They may have been wrong about _who _was trying to take over the Ministry--or missed a second threat, given Dumbledore's past--but they had clearly seen that _someone _was. Percy determined that _he _would not be the source of any leaks. Unfortunately, Percy did not trust any of the known Legilimens enough to ask that they attack his shields full strength. Instead, he had to settle for dismantling and rebuilding them daily, which took far longer to build his mental muscles. _I may never get them as strong as I would with an outside push. But they _are _strong enough to prevent casual spillage, and any decent intent ward would alarm when it _couldn't _read me._

Percy looked up as Taylor sat across from him. He nodded, then reluctantly pulled out his actual Arithmancy assignment. If he skirted the wards once, he could do it again. He just needed to know the trigger. _Whatever the hell it is._

* * *

Two weeks later, a possible answer hit him as he walked down to supper. Once a student was of age, no permission was required to browse the restricted section. A fact the professors did not advertise--Percy himself did not learn that until Fudge had him research Hogwarts for him. Physically, he was fifteen again. But his memories…

Percy spun around and dashed up the stairs, ignoring the startled protest of the nearby students. He dashed to the library, which had decided to place itself next to Flitwick's classroom. A quick search later, and he had pulled the best reference. _A wizard's magical signature, sometimes called an aura, evolves constantly. Primarily the traits a wizard is born with, all life experiences are represented in the signature. These representations cannot be erased. Every gift, lesson, memory, trauma, triumph, mistake, humiliation…_

"Oh, get to the point," Percy muttered under his breath, skimming the next two paragraphs.

…_Experience representations cannot be erased, though they can fade over time as the aura grows and new experiences are wrapped over it. They can also be encouraged to migrate further away from the surface. _

Percy frowned as he set the book down. _So, I have seven years of memories represented in my magical signature? _He sighed and set his arms down on the table, laying his face against his arms. _Can it really be something as simple as an age-ward? And can I count on it staying confused? _As much as Percy's experience had made him a more mature fifteen year-old this time around, his brain and body were not mature now. That had to impact how age-lines saw him. As much as he hated to admit it, he had been moodier the past few months than he had been for years.

Biting the corner of his lower lip, Percy stared at the desk. He remembered what happened, so, in a sense, he _was _a twenty-two year-old wizard. But, at the same time, he _was _a fifteen year-old. Percy gripped his hair as he allowed his forehead to land on the desk. Every time he tried to determine his age relevant to his past, his thoughts ran in circles until his brain hurt. _And I'm assuming the bloody section doesn't just recognize her--Hang on._

Pince had him stay behind. Any ward that treated the books independently would not care where he stood…

Percy lifted his head up at that thought, then slammed his head into the desk. _Stupid! _He banged his head against the desk again. _All that time wasted because you didn't see the obvious! _"Bloody hell," he swore softly. "Of all the silly things to do…"

He sighed and sat up, running his hand through his hair. As he stared at the opposite wall, his stomach rumbled. Percy stood and grabbed his bookbag. He had no reason to remain, and the Halloween feasts were always delicious. Besides, any minute Quirrell would start babbling about the damned troll--_Shit! How'd I let that slip my mind? _Percy rushed toward the door. He should be there when Dumbledore sent everyone to the dorms. The minute he exited the library, a horrible stench assaulted his nose. Staring at a suit of armor, stood the troll itself, in all its hideous glory. Percy froze. The troll turned at looked straight at him.

"FUCK!" Percy cursed as he fumbled for his wand. He let his bookbag fall to the ground. As the troll made its way towards him, a bushy head stuck itself out of the door next to him. Hermione's eyes were teary and bloodshot. She squeaked loudly as she caught sight of the troll.

The troll smiled a predatory grin as it lifted up its club.

"RUN!" Percy ordered as he grabbed the first year's wrist with his left hand. He tugged her along with him as he conjured several marbles and banished them to the floor in front of the troll's feet. The floor shook as the troll crashed down onto the ground. The troll's roar of rage hurt Percy's ears. Beside him, Hermione stumbled and fell. Percy pulled her up, more roughly than he had intended. "Come on! That won't delay it long."

As the pair ran off again, a scream from behind them stopped Percy cold. "Ron!" A quick glance over his shoulder, confirmed that the troll had turned away from them. It lumbered after two small forms down the hall. "Find a professor!" Percy instructed, pushing Hermione down the hall before he rushed to his little brother's rescue. He barely remembered to deconjure his marbles before he stepped on them himself. Relieved over that near miss, Percy aimed at the troll's back. His blasting curse froze on the tip of his wand, as Percy found himself wondering if he had learned it yet.

During his moment of hesitation, the troll swung its club and he heard Ron and another boy--probably Harry--cry out. Cursing, Percy raced to the troll's side and blasted the troll as it swung around. Percy's curse impacted the troll's head as its club crashed into Percy's chest. The curse blasted the troll's head off, spraying troll blood across the hall and over the two first year boys. Percy felt his ribs crack. The force of the club strike threw him into the wall. Percy slid down to the floor and struggled to breathe.

Ron and Harry scrambled over to him. Ron squatted on his right side and Harry on Percy's left. Harry's black hair and glasses drew attention to his pale skin. On the other hand, Ron's face looked green, which clashed with his red freckles. "You guys all right?" Percy choked out as they pulled him to a sitting position.

Ron and Harry stared at him as if he had grown a second head. "Are _we_ all right?" Ron blurted. "Bloody hell, Perce! You're spitting up blood!"

He was? Percy started at the revelation, but it would explain the metallic taste in his mouth. Percy lifted his hand to his mouth and wiped a thumb along his lip. "I guess I am," he replied as he studied the red smear. Then he noticed the wand in his hand. "I broke my wand." It was at that moment that McGonagall came racing down the hall, followed closely by Snape and Quirrell.

Quirrell took one look at Percy and started whimpering. Then he turned to the troll and fell to the ground. _Why didn't we see through such horrible overacting? _Percy wondered absently.

"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!?" McGonagall thundered at him. "YOU COULD HAVE BEEN KILLED! HARRY AND YOUR BROTHER COULD HAVE BEEN KILLED! WHY AREN'T YOU IN YOUR DORMITORY!?"

"Dormitory?" Percy asked, as he should not know what she was talking about. "What--"

"THEY DIDN'T KNOW!" Ron blurted. "Hermione was crying in the girl's room all day, and we realized she didn't know about the troll--Percy was all ready up here. He must have been trying to talk her out."

"Is this true, Mr. Weasley?" McGonagall asked sternly, looking at Percy.

Percy shook his head. "Not quite. I was trying to finish something in the library. I thought I'd heard something from the lavatory next door, but when I walked into the hall, the troll--" Percy broke off as he started coughing again.

"And where is Miss Granger?" Snape asked as he leaned over and cast a diagnostic spell at Percy.

"Sent her to find a staff member," Percy responded.

Snape abruptly cast the Patronuscharm. "Poppy," he spoke to the silver mist, "I have a student with flail chest, one lung punctured and the other badly bruised. Second floor west, _now_." Snape completed the final wand gesture, and the mist coalesced into a silver doe that dashed away.

"What?" McGonagall asked startled.

"It looks like he took a club hit to the chest," Snape replied.

Ron nodded. "Yeah, as he blasted the troll."

"V-very imp-pressive bl-blasting hex," Quirrell said as he stood. "But it's best to c-cast from further away, as I'll c-cover next month."

Percy closed his eyes and gasped for breath. Without the threat of the troll, he had a better idea of what he should know. "I only ever read about it. I had to be sure Ron and Harry were well out of the spellpath if it went wrong. I tried to think of something else, but the troll closed on them, and I couldn't afford to wait any longer. Summoning," he realized. "I should have summoned its club, then--" _I should have just thrown the spell while the shot was clear and worried about explanations later. _Percy started coughing again. "Banished it at his head," he finished as the fit passed.

"Don't talk, Weasley," Snape instructed. "You need all the air you can get."

"Can't you do something Severus?" McGonagall asked.

"If his ribs hadn't punctured his lung, but there's a reason I'm only certified for first aid, not mediwizardry."

"But your potions--"

"Would fatally interfere with a couple critical spells if administered first."

"WHERE IS HE!?" Percy opened his eyes to see the plump mediwitch racing down the hall, faster that he would have thought possible. Hermione and Flitwick followe_d. "MOVE!"_ Madam Pomfrey ordered as she pushed Quirrell to the side. The stuttering professor fell back to the ground. Ron scooted away Percy without any prompting. Pomfrey cast her own diagnostic spell, then rapidly threw three more spells at him. The warm, healing energy flowed through him, irritating his injuries. "Severus, do you have a diur--Thanks." Pomfrey grabbed one of the two potion vials out of Snape's hands and poured it down Percy's throat. Then she cast a sleeping spell as she reached for the other potion.

* * *

Percy sighed as he leaned back in his hospital bed. Beside him, the last few issues of the _Daily Prophet_ sat. The news coverage of the troll incident had been rather embellished, but managed to get the key points of the story across. The criticism of Hogwart's security surprised Percy as he could not recall the paper covering the incident the last time around. Of course, no Ministry employees were called off duty because their kid had suffered near-mortal injuries that time around. And given the way the _Prophet_ bought Ministry gossip…

Percy frowned as he thought of his mother's tears and father's stony face. How much of what happened at Hogwarts did they really know? Perhaps if he had spent more time talking to them about those events instead of what was expected of him, he could have explained his position better. Percy rubbed his forehead. Did it even matter now? Those events were effectively overwritten, but he was not, and would not be the person he was then. He had grown.

Percy reached out and grabbed his bookbag. Ron and Harry had narrowly escaped injury--or death--because he was so worried about doing something wrong, that he had nearly failed to _anything_. History _had _changed, and the world had yet to collapse. He had to trust that it would continue on, and face the future as best he could.

But first, he would finish _Bring Your Paintings to Life_.

* * *

AN: I want to assure everyone who has previously read this story, that I will finish it. It will be slow going, but there should not be any more twenty-month update gaps. After _Deathly Hallows _and several post release interviews with the author, I needed a break from writing in the fandom. I believe I've replied to everyone who left reviews for the last chapter. If you had a question go unanswered, let me know and I'll get back to you.

--étienne


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